


Three is a Crowd

by Medilia



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medilia/pseuds/Medilia
Summary: Rufus has developed a strange fascination with the slums and a particular redheaded gang member who resides there. His lover worries that this new obsession will lead the young heir to ruin, but Tseng could never predict this outcome.
Relationships: Reno/Rufus Shinra, Reno/Rufus Shinra/Tseng, Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	1. The House On The Hill

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story idea that has been knocking around my head for awhile.   
> As the years have passed I have started to create intricate headcanons about Rufus and his Turks in relation to their pasts and their histories. This work exists outside of any other Final Fantasy VII works I have written.

Before Midgar there had been eight towns surrounding a central source of water, the towns had traded with one another, sharing resources and keeping the peace. Then Midgar had been built, it had been sold as a dream of unity and greater trade and sharing. But then the plate had been constructed, and the old ways were forgotten within mere decades. But there were still memories of those old times, and one of them sat upon a hill watching over Sector Six’s Wall Market with malevolence. There was a story that the man who built the house had fallen for a Wutanese woman. To appease her family, the man built them a home. The mansion was inspired by the palaces of Wutai. The palace would prove to her family that the man could care for her properly. She had come from Wutai and moved into her new home where they had lived happily for many years.

But this was Midgar and like often when it came to this city the story did not have a happy ending. 

When Shinra started building the plate, the man and his wife rebelled against the company. They incited protests and made it difficult for Shinra to get what it wanted. Then, one night, they were no more. Gone, them and their three children. Not a trace, not a cry in the night. The story went that in the night, black vehicles and men in black suits had come to the house and taken the family away, leaving the mansion abandoned.

It was not long before the great house was claimed by an up and coming gang leader who fashioned himself as a Don. Sector Six became his domain, a wretched place where drugs were treated as currency, sex worker’s were aplenty, and criminals ran the streets. Violence and gangs were the law, many of them ruled by the Don himself. Instead of ending the issue, Shinra built a wall around the area, and it became known as Wall Market. 

Wall Market was not a place any upstanding citizens of Midgar wished to be seen. Of course, the Honey Bee Inn had quite the reputation for frequently hosting prominent members of Shinra’s upper management, but they were seldom actually seen. Don Corneo had worked hard to engrain himself into the good graces of Shinra, after all the company ruled the city and whoever they did not like disappeared. It would be easy for Shinra to find a new king of the slums, someone who suited their tastes and toed the line they drew. 

Within the walls of his city, Don Corneo was the lord, he had spent years mastering the art of appeasing Shinra. Every couple of months Don Corneo could expect a visit from the Turks. The men and women in their fitted black blazers would turn up at his house, usually having given a few hours notice. The Turks were always painfully polite, but the threats and double meanings were explicit, and the Don took heed. Appreciation was shown to the Turks and their employer by way of information about people and groups that could be of interest or threat to the Shinra organisation. More than once, Don Corneo had turned the Turks’ eyes to potential recruits, and only once had the Don tried to infiltrate them with a plant of his own. That had been a painful lesson for the Don to learn, no one messes with the Turks. 

The years and many lessons learnt at the hands of the firm, patient and rather inventive Turks, had taught Don Corneo that the best way to rule his kingdom was through circuses and a healthy dose of fear. His colosseum provided the entertainment, as did the Honey Bee Inn. Oh sure, the Honey Bee was technically owned by Andrea Rhodea, but who owned Rhodea? Who owned Wall Market? The Don, of course. Providing the fear was the gangs, bandits and hooligans that roamed the outskirts of Wall Market, just beyond the walls, a reminder to all that Wall Market was a sanctuary, a safe place. And if the gangs and bandits were not enough, the monsters that roamed the roadways between the sectors surely were. 

And so it is, on the streets of Wall Market, under the watchful shadow of the Don’s palace does this tale begin. 

It was raining on the plate, one of the infrequent showers that sometimes graced the barren wasteland which surrounded Midgar. One would not know it was raining below the plate if not for the leaks and the places where water ran off from the plate and far down onto the undercity. That was to say, it was dry down in the slums and had Tseng not seen the rain begin before he descended he would have never known. Tseng had to admit, if only to himself, that he missed storms, the rumble of thunder and the crack of lightning, the sweet smell of ozone and the harsh push of howling winds against his soaked body. It never stormed in Midgar, it barely even rained. Tseng moved up the stone stairway at the heels of Veld towards the red house on top of the hill. As Veld had said, it was of Wutanese design, red pillars fringed with gold were illuminated by oranging lights. Statues of Wutanese dragons stood guard on either side of the flagstone path. Tseng turned his eyes forward to the reinforced double wooden doors covered in Wutanese designs. The care and love that went into the building and its design was clear to Tseng, someone greatly respected and loved the Wutanese culture. 

Veld and Lex pushed open the heavy doors leading the way into the atrium where Wutanese style food carts crowded the area leading up to a second set of double doors. These ones were protected by muscle, the men stood with their arms folded, feeling strong and confident of their place in the Don’s good graces. 

“Is the Don expecting you?” A man with more muscles than brains asked in a deep voice. His aggressive eyes inspected the Turks without the healthy fear an intelligent person would have. 

Veld’s face was completely impassive as he looked at the man. “He will see me regardless of whether or not he expects me.”

“Don Corneo is engaged tonight. You can try again tomorrow.” 

The barrel of Veld’s gun came to rest against the man’s temple. “Perhaps you are new, or perhaps you are stupid. I am Veld of the Turks, Don Corneo sees me whenever I want him to. You’re a clever man, I’m sure you know what a Turk is. So be a good boy and open this door.” 

Tseng was, as always, left in awe of Veld and his power. Veld kept his voice soft, but his commanding demeanour and gun left no room for protest. The door was opened, and Veld led the way inside with a polite thanks, the Director did not put his gun away, seeing this, Tseng rested his own hand on his holster. While the outside of the mansion had been grand and beautiful, the inside was garish. The Wutanese decor remained, but a lot of it had been pushed to the side under the stairs giving the main room a cheap and crowded feeling that Tseng did not like. Veld led the way up the grand staircase and to the upper landing. He passed the first door but opened the second nodding for Lex to go first, Tseng followed behind. They entered a passage that led to the second set of double doors. When these ones were opened, the three Turks stepped into a large office.

Three young women stood in a line, surrounded by Don Corneo’s men while the Don himself leered at them as he tried to decide who would have the dubious honour of being his bride. Tseng’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as he took in the scene before him. 

“That will be quite enough of that,” Veld interrupted the Don. “Let these women leave, we have business to discuss.”

“AH! Veld!” Don Corneo leapt backwards in surprise. “I was not expecting you here tonight! We don’t have an appointment.”

“We do not,” Veld said, “I, however, needed to speak with you and did not want to wait. I hope that is not a problem.”

As the women moved out of the way, Tseng took his first proper look at the Don. The first word that came to Tseng’s mind was ‘Slimy’, there was something about Don Corneo that made Tseng feel physically repulsed. Corneo was overweight with his fat rolling over the top of his belt, he wore a red brocade fur-lined coat over a beige shirt that was straining against the Don’s stomach. 

Don Corneo grumbled and waved his hand. “The girls are yours for tonight,” he told his men. 

“No,” Veld said, “The girls can go back home,” he looked at the three young women with pity and compassion. Tseng shuddered to think what fate these young women would have otherwise suffered had they not come. “Your men are dismissed.”

For a moment, Tseng thought Don Corneo was going to protest, but then he deflated and mimicked the order to his men. The women and the men began to file out. 

“Lex, make sure that the women leave here safely,” Veld added. 

With all the people gone, Tseng was able to better take in the features of the room. The care and dedication that had gone into the decoration were of the same calibre as everywhere else, but like the Don, something was off about it all, it had been poisoned by the Corneo. 

“What can I do for you, Veld?” The Don walked around to sit behind his desk as the doors to the office closed. Veld approached and Tseng followed two paces behind, the young man had not been able to let go of his gun, there was something about this place that had him on edge. 

“We have become aware of some dealings you have had with factions that do not hold the company’s interests in high regards,” Veld spoke in a casual tone, but Tseng could hear the menace behind the words, it was a skill that Tseng longed to master himself, “As you can imagine, I find this very troubling.” There was a long silence in which Don Corneo chose not to speak when it was clear that he would not, Veld continued. “I would say that we have had a mutually beneficial arrangement the past several years and I would hate to see it end.”

The Don shifted uncomfortably. “O-of course not, and you know that my interests are aligned with those of Shinra’s at all times. In fact, what you have discovered is my attempt to gain information for Shinra so that you know what your enemies are planning!” Sweat beaded on the Don’s forehead and ran down his left temple. 

“Our enemies? Shinra has only one enemy, and that is Wutai,” Veld was toying with the Don just as a cat would toy with a mouse. 

“O-of course not, I just- I misspoke.”

Veld backed away a little allowing Don Corneo to exhale and relax slightly again. “But if you have information from someone whose interests are unaligned, I would be willing to listen to it.”

Singing like a canary was the phrase Tseng found fitting for what occurred over the next half hour. Don Corneo surrendered to Veld all the information he knew about a company that had been looking into wind-based energy. Once Veld was sure that he had squeezed all the information he could from the Don he straightened. 

“Thank you for your assistance, I hope you have a lovely evening.” Veld gave a flick of his hand, indicating that Tseng was to follow him. They went back through the house and down the grand staircase. Lex was waiting for them by the door to the atrium with a cigarette between two fingers.

“We done, Boss?” Lex asked as he took a draw from his cigarette. 

“We are, thank you for coming with me tonight.” Veld led the way out. 

The rain was still falling heavily when they arrived back on top of the plate. Tseng parted ways with Veld and Lex heading for his apartment in Sector Eight, but on the way, he diverted and instead went to Sector Six. 

It was ironic that sitting above Wall Market was the playground of the rich and influential of Midgar. In contrast to its lower level neighbour, Sector Six on top of the plate had a reputation for the finer things in life, upscale restaurants, expensive theatres and expensive houses. None was more lavish or more expensive than the Shinra house. Taking up a large block all of its own and four stories high, the Shinra House was illuminated at all times causing its white walls to be blinding. Tseng had spent his youth in the house as a playmate and companion to Rufus Shinra, together they had run through the halls of the house and spied on the adults. But even at eleven years old both boys had been more mature than was fair. Tseng had held no illusions that he was anything but a prisoner of Shinra, his family would not allow him to think anything else. And Rufus had started to lose his boyish idolisation and love for his father. 

Tseng’s status as a Turk granted him access to the grand house and with a familiarity born from the years he had spent living there himself, Tseng navigated the halls and back stairways up to the third storey where Rufus’ room was. Tseng knocked softly and then waited for acknowledgement from Rufus. 

“Who is it?”

“Tseng,” he said softly, not wanting his voice to echo down the hallway, this late-night rendezvous was meant to be a secret after all.

“Come in.” When Tseng opened the door, Rufus was sitting up in bed, he folded a newspaper he had been reading in half and set it down on the bedside table. Blue eyes looked Tseng up and down but seemed satisfied with what they saw. “You went to Wall Market tonight, what was that like?”

Rufus had developed a strange fascination for the Slums over the last few months, of course, the son of President Shinra had never been allowed to go down there, it was not a fitting place for one so high class. Personally, Tseng did not understand Rufus’ fascination with seeing poverty and debauchery, he supposed it was just so far away from what Rufus knew that it would not seem real to him. 

“Dirty,” Tseng replied, taking off his shoes and crossing the room to Rufus’ bed, he perched himself on the edge and reached out a hand to cup Rufus’ cheek. “Not a pleasant visit, but a necessary one.”

Rufus leaned into Tseng’s touch, the soft skin of his cheeks brushing against Tseng’s palm. “That is not much of a description, Tseng. Tell me of Don Corneo’s mansion, is it accurate to Wutanese culture?”

“It is,” Tseng said lowering his hand from Rufus’ cheek, it was clear that his lover was more interested in Tseng’s story than the man himself this evening, “But the Don has not treated it with the respect such a masterpiece deserves.” Even now, removed from his homeland for nine years, Tseng still treated his heritage with reverence as his parents would expect of him. Seeing that Rufus wanted him to continue, Tseng settled back against the pillows and began to tell Rufus of his evening in the slums, he provided detail that seemed to appease Rufus. Rufus’ odd interest in the slums and how the poor lived could only be described as a fetishisation, so far removed from them that Rufus could not even see them as real people. 

When Tseng had finished detailing his evening to Rufus, the blond seemed satisfied. “Will you be staying with me tonight?”

“Do you want me to?” Tseng could never tell with Rufus these days, in the last few months the blond had become somewhat withdrawn from Tseng. Sex had become almost transactional and stolen affection rare. 

Rufus nodded. “I feel like you have not been with me in some time, we should remediate that.”

Clumsy exploration of bodies had become a distant memory to Tseng and Rufus. The passing of years and the knowledge they had garnered about one another meant that their unions were like a rehearsed play, every action had a corresponding reaction that they both knew by heart. There was a part of Tseng that worried that they had become too predictable to one another, like a couple who had been married for decades. When they had both found their releases the two young men lay together lost in their own thoughts and staring at the white ceiling of Rufus’ bedroom. 

“I want you to take me down to Wall Market,” Rufus’ voice was unusually intrusive to the quiet of the bedroom. 

Frowning, Tseng rolled over to look at the blond. “Why?” Wall Market was a world away from the plate that Rufus had known all his life. Once again, Tseng wondered if Rufus, raised in privilege had started to fetishize the Slums and how the poor lived. 

“Because I want to see,” Rufus replied cocking his eyebrow, “If you don’t want to accompany me, I will go alone.”

That was never going to happen. With a defeated sigh, Tseng gave a small jerk of his head. “If that is what you want.” Better Tseng go with Rufus to protect him both from the dangers of the slums and from his own ignorance.


	2. A Night To Remember

Tseng had been fitted for his uniform when he was sixteen years old, no sooner had he been fitted for the tailored jacket and pants than they had needed adjustment for his growing frame. Ever since then, Tseng had worn the uniform nearly every day. The uniform had certainly been worn every time Tseng had ventured into the slums, it demanded respect and fear, armour for the Turks to wear in the volatile and dangerous place. The baggy black hoodie, decorated with a flame design did not carry the same weight. Tseng slipped his sidearm into the deep pocket checking in the mirror that it was properly concealed. At his side, Rufus was dressed in a similar fashion, with a baggy hoodie of pale grey, the hoodie did not stand out save for the drawstrings that were tipped with Tonberrys. Rufus had drawn the hood up to conceal his ash-blond hair and his favourite gun was stowed in his own large pocket.

The question of whether this was a good idea sat once again on the tip of Tseng’s tongue, but he bit back the urge to speak. He had asked several times in the week since Rufus had demanded Tseng take him to Wall Market. Every time Tseng had asked Rufus had affirmed the decision. Rufus was determined to visit Wall Market and see how the people lived below the plate. Of course, had Rufus actually wanted to know how people lived in the undercity he would have chosen to go somewhere less garish and more simple, Sector Five would have been an advisable choice. 

“Stop looking so worried,” Rufus met Tseng’s gaze in the mirror, “we will be fine. I’m merely going to observe, not to get involved.”

Tseng nodded, “I know, but it’s my job as your bodyguard to ensure that you are safe.” 

“And your job as my lover to give me a good night out.”

That was manipulative and they both knew it. Tseng sometimes worried that he loved Rufus more than Rufus loved him. Perhaps he had become a mere amusement to his lover, after all, who better to sleep with than someone you could control? Tseng belonged to the Shinra family, he was nothing more than property in the eyes of the President. Perhaps, it was the same for Rufus now? It was a grim thought that Tseng did not allow himself to dwell on for fear of it taking hold of him.

“We should go,” Tseng said, stepping out of his bedroom and into the living room of his apartment. Tseng’s apartment was an amalgamation of traditional Wutanese decor and the modern chic favoured by the upper class of Midgar. Neither really suited Tseng, but they seemed like they should, so he decorated with the two styles just as he had seen in an interior design magazine. Tseng had lived in the apartment for nearly five months, while Shinra provided the Turks with accommodation in Sector Zero the Wutainese man had decided to minimise gossip by moving out and avoiding the awkwardness of answering questions as to why Rufus Shinra was spending time in employee housing.

Tseng led the way from his small Sector Eight apartment to the train station. He had spent the day before forging ID cards for them to conceal their movements from prying eyes. It would do no good for Rufus’ ID to ping on the train heading for the slums, it would raise too many questions and get them both in trouble. As they waited for the train, Tseng pulled down the beanie he had purchased to conceal his bindi, he then pulled the black hoodie over the top. The train rolled smoothly into the station and Tseng paused knowing this was his final chance to stop Rufus from venturing into the slums. But Tseng did not stop Rufus, he did not even try. Tseng walked onto the train beside Rufus and they descended down into the slums together.

It was as if the nightclubs were competing to be as loud as possible, the pumping music spilled out from the clubs reverberating against the walls and echoing in the alleyways. Despite the relatively early hour of the evening, drunken revellers were already stumbling out onto the streets of Wall Market shouting and laughing. While Tseng looked upon the scene with disdain, Rufus was fascinated. Tseng supposed that for someone as rich and sheltered as Rufus the whole thing was little more than an amusement, once he lost interest he would be able to turn to Tseng and demand to leave. 

“I want to go to the colosseum,” Rufus said, “Which way is that?”

Well, at least he did not want to go to the Honey Bee Inn, that was positive, but the night was also still young. Tseng gave a nod of his head and changed their path heading towards the colosseum. Like the mansion, the colosseum was inspired by Wutai and its culture. By Tseng’s judgement, the exterior had been built at the same time as the manor, but when they walked inside Tseng noted that the interior had been re-designed. It kept to the Wutainese inspiration, but there was a more modern touch clearly given by someone who did not know nor appreciate Wutainese culture.

People were lined up at the ticket booths and Tseng slipped to the back of the line keeping Rufus at his side. It would be foolish for the Turk to let Rufus out of his sight. As much as Tseng did not want to draw attention to himself and Rufus, he also knew that Rufus would not want poor seats. Sparing no expense, Tseng paid for two prime seats ignoring the surprised look he received from the woman working in the booth. Tseng handed Rufus his ticket before leading the way to the auditorium. While most people were standing, Tseng had paid the extra money and obtained seats for himself and Rufus. Across the arena Tseng noted four thrones. They were occupied by four very different people, one of which was Don Corneo himself. It made sense that the king of Wall Market would attend the colosseum himself. Tseng surveyed the other three people sitting in the thrones, he eventually was able to identify one as Andrea Rhodea, the owner of the Honey Bee Inn. Tseng made a mental note to learn who the other people were.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A man had stepped out into the middle of the arena holding his arms out as he spoke. “It is my great pleasure to welcome you to this very special night at the colosseum!”

Rufus leaned in to Tseng. “Very special night, it seems we chose the right night to come down here.” Tseng merely nodded his eyes focused on the man in the arena.

“Our illustrious patrons, Chocobo Sam, Madam M and Andrea Rhodea will be having their greatest champions battle one another for the Don’s cash prize of one million gil! We have been promised a brutal and bloody night with many battles to be witnessed. So place your bets and get ready to shout for the Don’s Blood Bath!” The crowd cheered and screamed in delight.   
Rufus gave a little snort and once again leaned close to Tseng. “Is this how the other half find entertainment? In matches to the death?”

“It would seem so,” Tseng had never heard of something so absurd and brutal, but it was what it was and they had paid for the tickets. 

For the next two hours the Don delivered on his promise of a blood bath. There were smaller fights between bandits, beasts and desperate souls seeking a quick gil from the winnings that had been offered in the minor leagues and the betting pools. The champions of Chocobo Sam, Madam M and Andrea Rhodea were of an entirely different calibre. Their fights were long, drawn out and brutal, it was clear that winning was a matter of pride among those three. 

“And there you have it folks!” The announcer cried, “He has beaten every challenger that has come before him! He decimated Andrea Rhodea and Madam M! Our victor of this blood bath is Cho-” Before the sentence left his lips the announcer was cut off by the Don who had raised his hand for silence. 

“What do you think is happening?” Rufus asked softly as the Don communicated with the announcer through an intermediary. 

Tseng shook his head and furrowed his brow as he looked across the arena to where the Don was talking to someone at his side. The figure in a black hoodie stood up and vanished. The Don then spoke to someone else who held a phone to their ear. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer called, “In his benevolence, Don Corneo has decreed that there will be one final match tonight!” The crowd cheered. “The Don’s personal champion will be fighting Cutty and Sweepy!”

Rufus cocked his head to the side, “Someone is going to fight those two robots?” The robots were certainly not of Shinra standards, but they were brutal and built to decimate. One was an old cutter prototype undoubtedly based on Shinra modeling with a buzz saw on either mechanical arm. The other, a sweeper armed with machine guns that could fire off thousands of rounds per minute.

“It would appear so, but no guarantee their opponent is someone so much as something.” Tseng was rather over all the pointless violence, but they had stayed this long, they may as well stay until the end. 

The cutter and sweeper moved to one side of the ring while the doors on the other side slowly opened. Much to Tseng’s surprise, the Don’s champion was a someone. The champion was a painfully skinny young man with a shock of red hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

“The Don’s champion, Renault!” The announcer called from the safety of his platform which he had retreated to. 

“He looks like a child!” Rufus shook his head, “Truly, the poor live strange lives.”

“I wonder if this is the Don’s champion or his sacrifice,” Tseng said softly, “Perhaps we should go now.” He had no interest in watching this teenager being massacred by the two mechas.

“No, we’ll stay.”

Before Tseng could protest further the large screen above the arena began its countdown to the beginning of the fight. The audience shouted along with it baying for blood. Tseng turned his eyes down into the arena where the champion stood perfectly still. When the screen reached “one” he all but vanished. Renault was almost too fast to see, he ducked and dived between the mechas landing blows and successfully catching the robots off guard. The sweeper began to fire indiscriminately, its bullets hitting the cutter as well as spraying the walls of the arena. 

“Perhaps it is more of a fair fight than we realised,” Rufus’ voice was tinted with surprise and curiosity. 

The sweeper went down first after suffering repeated lightning attacks from the redheaded fighter. The cutter, which had suffered damage from its companion, charged forward with only one working buzz saw. It swung his mechanical arms but the attack was dodged by the elusive redhead who rolled under the mecha and thrust his metal rod into the belly of the robot before firing off a powerful lightning attack. Like the sweeper, the cutter collapsed forward no longer working. 

“I give you your winner, Don Corneo’s personal champion, Renault!” The announcer cried. 

As the crowd cheered, Rufus leaned close to Tseng. “How interesting, a man like that, with those fighting abilities, it is a surprise SOLDIER has not recruited him.”

“That may change,” Tseng said, the redhead looked scrawny, but his fighting skills could not be disputed. 

Tseng and Rufus filed out of the colosseum with the rest of the crowd. Tseng could not help but glance up the hill at the Don’s grand manor, he had caught himself thinking more of home the last week, ever since he had visited Don Corneo with Veld. It reminded Tseng that he was well overdue to go and visit his family in Sector Two. 

“Are you appeased by what you have seen this evening?” Tseng asked as he descended the stone stairs beside Rufus. They would soon be back in the heart of Wall Market. 

Rufus gave a nod. “It has certainly been an interesting start to the evening. I was thinking that perhaps the Honey Bee Inn should be our next stop.”

“The Honey Bee?” That had certainly caught Tseng off guard, he had not imagined that Rufus would have had much interest in such a place. “And what will we be doing there?”

“I’ve heard that there is a nightly show,” Rufus said, not bothering to look at Tseng as they walked. “I thought it might be interesting. My understanding is that the Don ensures that the people of Wall Market are supplied with entertainment to make it undesirable to leave.”

“Contrasting it with his bandits that roam outside the walls it makes this place appear as a haven to those less fortunate.” And once they were trapped inside the walls they all but belonged to the Don. 

Rufus shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently Don Corneo has realised that fear is a good way to control the minds of the people. They fear what is beyond these walls and so they adhere to what the Don wants within them.”

Tseng could only hum in agreement, Rufus was not wrong and the methods, although not ethical, were certainly effective in controlling a population. Rufus’ father employed a different method of control focusing on the bread and circuses, keeping the people fed and entertained on the plate and hence keeping them in line with his vision. Tseng already knew that Rufus would rule very differently to his father when his time came, for better or for worse, Tseng did not know. 

The Honey Bee Inn was not as debaucherous as Tseng had feared. While he had no doubt that in the private rooms anything was game, the main room provided them with a rather tasteful cabaret show that Andrea Rhodea himself participated in. Tseng noted how people had dressed up in their finest to see the shower. Ironic, since their finest hardly cost the same amount as the hoodies he and Rufus were wearing. When the show was over, Tseng once again attempted to encourage Rufus to leave, they had seen the sites and smelled the rather unpleasant smells. Once again, Rufus was not ready to let his night end. 

It was not until they had visited three bars and a hand massage parlour that Rufus was willing to turn in for the night. Tseng suspected it had a lot to do with Madam M and her massage, the sounds coming from behind the curtain would have been rather concerning had Tseng not been all too familiar with the Wutanese style of hand massage. When they had first entered the parlour Tseng had almost grabbed Rufus and marched him back out. The sight of Madam M in her partially open kimono with the obi tied at the front gave Tseng the impression that this was a very different kind of massage parlour than they had first thought, if Rufus wanted a happy ending he could have it back home! But it seemed that Madam M just liked the look, Tseng wondered how long she had been away from Wutai, there was no accent and for all he knew she was several generations removed from their homeland. 

Tseng had suggested that they take a chocobo carriage back to the train station, but Rufus’ stubbornness once again won out and it was decided that they would instead walk back to Sector Five station. As they left Tseng checked his gun, his instincts told him that this was not a good idea, but Rufus was not hearing it. 

The walls were barely out of sight when bandits set upon them. The group of fifteen men with masked faces surrounded Rufus and Tseng leering and taunting them. It seemed that Tseng was not the only one who had noticed how expensive their hoodies were. 

“Well, well, what do we have here? Leaving Wall Market so soon?” the leader leered swinging a baseball bat covered in nails. “We thought you might want to party with us.”

Tseng drew his gun noting that Rufus had the good sense to do the same. “Unfortunately, gentlemen we are not staying to party. I would recommend that you move on and find someone else to dance with tonight.”

“Oh, look, they have bite!” A bandit taunted. 

Tseng fired the first shot right between the eyes of the bandit who had spoken. The execution did not have the desired effect and instead of backing away the bandits attacked. The sound of fighting must have drawn more bandits because the number of attackers swelled. In the confusion of battle, Tseng lost sight of Rufus. Panic rose within him as he desperately fought and searched for any sign of Rufus, but the blond was gone. Finally, Tseng defeated everyone who was still fighting him, several fled but he did not bother giving chase. Instead, he started desperately looking for Rufus. Rufus’ body was not among the fallen, but his expensive gun, decorated with ivory details was laying just on the ground covered in blood.


	3. The Don's Champion

Rufus had been trained by the Turks, he was a more than competent fighter, but there was little that could be done when he ran out of ammunition and was overwhelmed by the bandits. They dragged him away from Tseng and away from the road they had been walking along. 

The bandits threw Rufus down onto asphalt and someone delivered a kick to his ribs tearing a howl of pain from the heir to Shinra. Rufus resisted the weak urge to curl in on himself and instead forced himself to try standing up. He had only gotten to his knees before the bandits pushed him back down. Judging by his surroundings Rufus could only imagine he was on the collapsed expressway that had been left in the slums since its collapse fifteen years earlier. The Sector Six plate now sat above the wreckage and for those who lived up top the whole incident had been forgotten. 

“Now, now rich boy,” the masked leader taunted Rufus through a smiling skull bandana, “you look like you are a long way from home. Did you decide to come down from the plate to see how the other half live?”

It was amusing to Rufus that this bandit had worked out Rufus’ intentions so easily, now if only the bandit realised exactly who they had in their midst. Rufus contemplated whether silence was the best course of action, but he decided to speak instead. 

“Guilty as charged,” Rufus said slowly pushing himself up again, this time he was not pushed down and made it to his knees, “I must say,” he started to stand, keeping his movements slow. “The poverty I was prepared for, the lack of intellect has caught me off guard.”

One of the bandits made a noise of confusion. “Hey! What do you mean by that!?”

Rufus had made it to his feet, there were seven men standing around him. They were armed with metal pipes and baseball bats. While the heir to Shinra was competent in hand to hand combat he did not like his chances against seven armed men. 

“He is insulting us!” the leader growled. “Let’s teach rich boy a lesson!”

The first blow Rufus was able to avoid, but after that the seven men began to reign blows down on him and there was little Rufus could do. 

“And what are we up to?” A voice drawled in a typical slum accent. 

The attack on Rufus eased leaving the blond’s head pounding and his eyes swimming. He felt blood trickle down his nose. Gamely, Rufus opened his eyes to try and see the new arrival. 

“We found this rich kid and his friend on the road heading out of Wall Market,” the leader of the bandits said, “Look! He’s wearing Tonberry!”

The bandits parted and Rufus saw the Don’s champion. He was actually taller than Rufus had thought when he had seen the other man in the colosseum, even so, he was young, had to be in his midteens. Renault was dressed in baggy cargo pants decorated with chains disappearing into various pockets or just hooking up to be attached on the belt loop. He wore a black tank top that sat so loose on the teen’s slender frame that most of his chest was exposed and over that an open black hoodie also of Tonberry branding. 

“Tonberry,” Renault repeated his blue eyes inspecting Rufus critically, “really aint that expensive. You guys should just take the jacket and leave this poor guy alone.”

The leader of the bandits growled. “Hey! He was our find! We’ll do what we like with him!”

Renault swung around a collapsible baton seeming to materialise in his hand. He aimed the tip of his weapon towards the bandit leader and lightning crackled. “I said, take his jacket and go. That’s all you’re gettin’ just for being an ass to me.” Renault looked down at Rufus. “Ya heard me pretty boy. Take off the hoodie and hand it over.”

Rufus would have very much liked to protest and fight back, but the odds were still against him and at least this way he might escape with his life. It was a good thing Tseng had told him to leave his real identification at home, should his attackers know his true identity Rufus was certain he would be in real trouble. Rufus pulled the hoodie over his head as he stood up. He then handed it over to Renault. Renault’s hand dove into the pockets and first produced Rufus’ PHS. The device was badly damaged and when Renault pressed the button on the side it did not respond. Nevertheless, Reno shoved it in his pocket. 

“Hey! That’s our loot!” The leader of the bandits protested desperately. 

Renault removed Rufus’ wallet next and inspected his fake ID. “You can keep that,” Renault said, tossing the card at Rufus. The gil and wallet Renault put back into the pocket and then thrust the hoodie to the bandits. “Your cut, you can all go harass someone else now.”

The bandits started to protest, but Renault’s baton cracked with lightning and they all seemed to think better of this decision. The bandits quickly scattered in different directions leaving Rufus alone with Renault.

“They mentioned you had a friend,” Renault said, “Where are they?” Rufus kept his mouth shut eyeing Renault warily. This only caused the redhead to roll his eyes. “Tryna help you and your friend so ya don’t get done in by bandits.”

“Why?” Rufus asked, narrowing his eyes. “What do you get out of helping me?”

“Good karma, a warm fuzzy feeling and the satisfaction of knowing I fucked over Bruce this evening… the bandit who led that pack of numpties,” Renault added as an explanation. “So, where is your friend?”

Rufus considered Renault for a long moment before deciding he had little option but to work with the other young man. He had no phone and no weapon and considering his current state Rufus doubted he would be much of a challenge for Renault who, after his earlier battle with the two mecha seemed completely unscathed. 

“The last time I saw him was when we were fighting just outside of Wall Market,” Rufus said, “We were separated.”

Renault gave a nod of his head. “C’mon then.” 

The bandits had not taken Rufus far at all, barely three hundred metres. Bodies of bandits lay scattered on the ground in pools of blood. But there was no sign of Tseng. 

“Do you think they took him somewhere?” Rufus asked, he wondered if Tseng was suffering the same fate he had almost been subjected to on the collapsed expressway. 

Renault shook his head. “No where to really take someone around here, I mean, unless he was unconscious, but they are really more likely to rob people an’ leave em’. Carryin’ people around is hard. Where were you heading?”

Rufus considered not answering, after all, as far as he was concerned this man was as much of an enemy and a threat as the bandits. But after a long moment Rufus decided he could not possibly be in much worse of a position. “Sector Five train station.”

“Well, if that’s where you’re meant to go that is where we’ll start. I bet that’s where your friend would have gone.” Reno started walking, but after a few steps he stopped and turned to Rufus who had not moved. “You comin’?” Rufus quickly stepped forward and began to walk alongside Renault. “No offence, but I don’t think you would make it on your own. You stink of the plate.”

“Of good hygiene, education and decorum?” Rufus knew that antagonising the one person in the slums who seemed willing to help him could be a misguided action, but Rufus was unable to resist biting back at the redhead, there was something about Renault that was just… annoying.

“Nah, more like privilege, arrogance and a lack of survival skills,” Renault smirked at Rufus. “Ya wouldn’t last ten minutes without me.”

Rufus ruffled, he wanted to protest and declare that the redhead could go and he would be fine, but Rufus was not a fool. Without Renault, Rufus could not find the train station and would probably be set upon by another group of bandits. Pressing his lips together Rufus kept walking and tried to ignore the smug smirk Renault was wearing. Finally, as they were walking through the town of Sector Five Rufus could keep silent no longer. 

“I saw you fight in the colosseum,” Rufus said as they walked, “You’re very good.”

“Thanks,” Renault did not sound particularly interested in talking about that, but before Rufus could try something else Renault made the decision to keep talking. “Those mecha aren’t hard to beat once you have them figured out. The trick is to avoid the bullets from the sweeper.”

“You’ve fought them before?” Rufus prompted. 

Renault gave a little shrug, “Yeah, and there are some around the abandoned expressway. Sam recently upgraded his machines so that was a bit of fun. But I guess once you figure out how to beat them once you can do it again. Unlike people they don’t learn, just get upgraded weapons and defences.”

“You fight well. Where did you train?”

“On the streets,” Renault laughed at Rufus, “You really are sheltered, ain’t ya? Out here you learn to protect yourself. An’ after I gained some skills I started fighting in the arena for Don Corneo.”

“It must be very profitable for you, wasn’t the prize one million gil this evening?” 

Renault shrugged. “The money is okay,” he said.

The indifference for one million gil did not make sense to Rufus, while it was not that much money to him, what Rufus had seen in the slums indicated to him that it would be near life changing for someone like Renault. Rufus wanted to press further but he was distracted as a helicopter flew overhead. He recognised the helicopter as a military one immediately, it seemed that Tseng had called for help. It was a reasonable action to take all things considered. 

Renault also looked up at the helicopter and seemed to tense. “Shinra patrol it seems…” he kept walking but had quickened his pace. More and more helicopters were flying over them and there was the sound of something going on up ahead. All of a sudden Renault stopped walking. “Well, the station is just around that corner,” he said, “I’d walk you there, but I don’t really want the attention. Have a pleasant evening, Mr Shinra.” With that Renault ducked between two crates and through a hole in a chain-link fence.

Before Rufus could fully process Renault’s hasty departure Tseng and Veld came around the corner and rushed towards him. 

“Sir!” Veld said, “What a relief to find you safe. We were worried!”

Tseng’s face revealed exactly how worried. “I-I couldn’t find you after the fight was over. I’m so sorry, Rufus…”

Rufus blinked several times trying to regain his wits, Renault had left him in a headspin. “It’s alright, Tseng. It’s not your fault.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should go home and prepare to face my father.”

“You’ll have a few hours to sleep and prepare for that,” Veld said as they started walking towards the station where a chopper was waiting.

It was only as Rufus was climbing into the back of the chopper that he realised. “I never told him my name…” Renault had helped him all the while knowing who he was and how valuable he was, that did not make sense!


	4. Existence

It had been an odd night for Reno. He had not expected to fight in the colosseum, but he supposed that was his own foolishness to think that Don Corneo would willingly part with his gil so easily. Meeting Rufus Shinra was certainly another unexpected part of the evening. Why the heir of Shinra was down in the slums was a mystery Reno supposed would never be solved. But at least those boneheaded bandits had not realised who they had caught. Bruce would have gotten grand ideas and probably tried to ransom Rufus back to Shinra. Undoubtedly leading to the slums being decimated. But, as it was, Rufus Shinra was safe and the whole thing could be forgotten.

Helicopters continued to fly overhead with their spotlights for a few minutes after Reno had left Rufus’ side, but when they stopped Reno breathed a sigh of relief. He made good time through the junkyard and back to Sector Five and then on to Wall Street. The town was finally starting to quiet. The last drunks were being pushed out of the bars and sent on their way. The bandits were crawling back into their hidey holes with their loot and bloody knuckles. Reno made his way to his apartment above one of the bars. 

It was not much to look at. A tiny room with an old mattress on the floor and a couple of boxes stacked up as a bedside table. There was a suitcase that stored all of Reno’s clothes pressed up against the wall. The entire place smelt of mildew and the window did not close properly meaning that Reno was constantly interrupted by loud noises from the streets below. There was a small bathroom that connected to Reno’s room. The shower in the bathroom leaked and the rhythmic fall of the water had become a familiar comofrt. Reno made his way into the little room and took a quick shower. The hot water was limited and Reno ran it all out using it to help him relax. His weariness finally caught up with him and when the water ran cold Reno shut it off and grabbed the towel from the broken, rusting towel rack. Reno dried himself off before dropping the towel on the cheap linoleum floor. Reno knelt down on his mattress and pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed. 

In the late afternoon Reno woke up and headed to Don Corneo’s mansion. The sun lamps hit the red house making the golden effigy on top of it shine. Reno hated the mansion, when he was younger he had been curious about “the big red Wutai house” and wished that he and his family could all live there together with all the people in the slums. In the mind of a child the house seemed so big, so why not share the wealth? Well, as Reno had learnt as he grew up, the rich did not share. The house now acted as a reminder of everything Reno hated about the slums and his life. 

Reno opened the heavy wooden doors into the atrium and passed the guards at the front door without a word. The ground floor of the mansion always made Reno strangely claustrophobic, belongings of the original owners were pressed up against the walls and piled under the stairs. Reno hurried up the stairs and along the second floor landing. The Don’s office was already filled with various members of the Don’s inner circle and gangs, but at the sight of Reno the Don shooed them all back. 

“Renault! My champion! Last night’s performance was marvelous! Although Sam and I will undoubtedly be having a few words.”

Not too many words, Sam liked having his business and comfort which Don Corneo could take away. But Reno was not there to care about what happened to Chobo Sam, he plastered a smile on his face and approached the Don’s desk.

“Heya boss! Glad you enjoyed the show. Think we can talk payment?” 

The Don reached into his desk and produced a pile of gil, he counted out a thousand and pushed it towards Reno. “Your standard payment and for your excellent work I will knock two hundred gil off your debt.”

“T-two hundred gil?” Reno spat, “That’s it? I saved you one million gil last night!” 

“Never mind then, if you can’t accept a gift with grace you won’t get one and for your insolence you’ll in fact owe me a further two hundred gil.”

Reno immediately counted back two hundred gil from the pile of cash. The Don gleefully took the money back and shoved it into the drawer. It took all of Reno’s self control not to curse the Don. Reno wanted to launch himself over the desk and beat him to death. But Reno restrained himself, he did not want to make his situation any worse. With a tight jaw Reno took the rest of his money and walked out of the mansion. He wanted nothing more than to hit the Don with his nightstick until there was blood and brain matter all over the walls of his office. That would be a glorious, satisfying day and Reno would continue to dream about it.

With his eight hundred gil Reno made his way to Sector Seven. His mother’s house was a small shack jammed between a general store and another small house. It was the same house that Reno had grown up in. There were only three bedrooms which for a while had been shared between the five boys while their mother and Darvis slept on a mattress in the lounge room. Reno had moved out of the house at fifteen, the money he earned working for the Don had been enough for him to rent the little bedroom in Wall Market. By doing this Reno felt he had lifted some of the financial burden off of his mother and step father. As usual, Reno heard sounds coming from the house long before he saw the shack. It seemed that his mother and her husband were fighting, again. Reno jogged towards the house throwing open the door. Darvis had his mother pressed up against the kitchen bench with his meaty hand around her slender throat. 

“I wouldn’t have to yell at you if you didn’t try to boss me around! I pay the bills around here!” Darvis yelled into Darla’s face. Spittle landed on Darla’s face and in Darvis’ salt and pepper beard. 

Without missing a beat, Reno grabbed Darvis and dragged him backwards. “You don’t fucking touch her or yell at her!,” Reno screamed in Darvis’ face, putting himself between Darvis and Darla. “An’ if anyone pays the bills its fuckin’ me.” Reno was now as tall as Darvis and the last few years spent fending for himself had seen Reno grow strong, despite his smaller frame, Reno was absolutely certain that he could beat Darvis in a fight. Darvis knew this too and although he stood tall and glared at Reno for a long moment he eventually stepped back with a scowl and declared that he was going out. Reno had no doubt that his step father was off to drink away half their money at Wall Market.

Darla used to have beautiful auburn hair, but it was thinning and Darla was going grey far too early. She sighed heavily and pushed herself up from the counter. “He’s just going to be angry later,” Darla said moving over to a magazine that she had been reading and starting to tidy up. “I’m guessing you are here to give me more money?”

“It’s for the brats,” Reno said, counting four hundred gil onto the dirty kitchen bench, “They’re at school today, right?” Reno’s eyes met his mother’s. There were many things that Reno had sacrificed for his family and he did not want the sacrifices to be in vain. It was too late for Reno and his full blooded brothers to gain an education, but Reno was making certain that his half-brothers had a better chance at life. 

“Of course they are,” Darla said with a scowl, clearly not appreciating any insinuation that the boys would not be getting the education Reno was paying for, “I want my sons to have opportunities. Do you think I like the fact that you work for Don Corneo? Do you think that I like Xander and Xavier running drugs? I want better things for you and your brothers.”

Reno swallowed. “Yeah, sorry, I know Ma.” He scratched the back of his head. “Look, I have things to do today, but I’ll try to bring more money soon."

Darla's face softened, genuine concern shining in her green eyes. "Reno, are you doing alright? If it is getting too much we can-"

"No," Reno says quickly, "I'm handling it." He stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on his mother's cheek. "Don't let Darvis beat up on you." If Reno could have his way Darvis would have been out on his ass a long time ago, but the unfortunate truth was, his meagre income was needed to keep the family afloat. Especially since he had gotten Darla pregnant again. 

Darla touched her hand to Reno's cheek, "You're a good boy, Reno." He could see in his mother's eyes that she did not have the fight in her to push back against Darvis and Reno supposed it was a good thing, if she fought back Darvis might actually kill her.

When Reno had told his mother that he had things to do, what he had actually meant was checking on his brothers. Xander and Xavier had both dropped out of school despite Reno's pleading for them to return. Like so many boys their ages they were now running drugs for a small gang that answered to Don Corneo. The pay was horrible and the risk of succumbing to their own product high. Reno found the two younger teenagers in Sector two slums. 

Xavier and Xander looked like Reno in face and figure. But they had their mother’s natural auburn hair that Reno had missed out on. Xander and Xavier were identical twins, while they had their own distinct styles, Reno had noticed they were keeping their look similar these days.

Xavier spotted Reno first, he jumped off the crates he had been sitting on and grinned widely at his brother. "Hey Reno!"

Reno embraced Xavier with a smile. "Thought I'd check up on you two. I just dropped some money at Ma's house."

"Win another fight?" Xander asked, coming over and giving Reno a brief hug. 

"Yeah, a big one," Reno said, "ya know, I'm making enough for you both to go back to school or even a trade school, you could learn to be builders or mechanics or somethin’, better life than running drugs."

This conversation had been repeated more times than Reno could count. But he would never stop trying to help his brothers out, he did not want them in his position.

"Reno," Xander said with a sigh of exasperation, "ya know that's not really an option. We'll spend a few months at school, get a certificate saying we passed and then not be able to find decent work."

"There is still construction occurring above the plate," Reno said, "you might get work there?"

"Or we don't and we're back here in six months," Xavier said.

Xander nodded in agreement. “It’s good of you to want a good life for us, Reno. But, it’s a little late, don’t ya think?”

They were probably right, but Reno did not want to give up hope for his brothers. He wanted his sacrifices, his service to the Don to give his family the best life possible. Reno sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. “Right… well… maybe another time, why don’t we go and get something to eat?” He might not be able to get his brothers back into school or stop them working for gangs, but he could provide them with a decent meal. 

As evening fell upon the slums, Reno walked his two younger brothers home and was glad that the house was quiet. He gave them both a hug and told them not to let Darvis beat up on their mother. The twins had just turned fifteen and while they were not as tall and strong as Reno, together they would be capable enough to at least stand up to Darvis. Hopefully it would not come to that. With his brothers safely home, Reno made his way to his own apartment stashing the remainder of his money safely at the bottom of the suitcase with the rest that he had put away there. Every gil he earned counted, and Reno wanted to make sure that even if he was Don Corneo’s property for the rest of his life his family had a decent enough life to show for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and critiques welcome :)


	5. Curiosity

When the president was done with Rufus he had sent him to his bedroom as if Rufus were a misbehaved child who needed to sit and think about what he had done. Tseng’s punishment had been relegated to Veld, who had assured Tseng that there would be a punishment for the part he had played in the disastrous events of the previous night, but it could wait. Tseng had rushed to Rufus’ room barely able to contain himself from running after the other man. It would not do for the staff to see Tseng running wildly after Rufus, the last thing they needed was the help gossiping about them. 

Tseng entered Rufus’ bedroom without knocking and closed the door quietly behind him. The shower was already running in the ensuite and Tseng followed the sounds of the running water. He pushed open the door to the steaming room. Rufus clothes had been hastily taken off and left in a messy pile on the floor, the fan was not running causing the bathroom to be filled with thick steam from the extreme temperature of the water. Tseng shrugged off his blazer and took off his shoes and socks before reaching into the shower and lowering the hot water while engaging the cold. He adjusted until the water ran a reasonable temperature, slowly Tseng knelt down ignoring the water soaking through his clothes. Rufus sat on the floor of the shower with his legs pulled to his chest and his eyes staring forward unseeing. Tseng did not say a word, he took the wash cloth from its hook and the body wash from the shelf and began to clean Rufus’ body. There were some small cuts and scrapes left by the bandits, but overall Rufus’ physical condition was fine. It was Rufus’ mind that Tseng was concerned with. As Tseng worked, Rufus slowly came back to himself. 

“I hate that man,” Rufus whispered to himself as much as Tseng. The blond reached up pushing his soaking wet hair from his eyes which were no longer staring into the distance, rather he was glaring at the tiled wall of the shower. 

Tseng shared Rufus’ disdain for the President, but he never felt that it was his place to say anything on the matter. After all, the President was his keeper and employer, a vastly different relationship than that of a father and a son. Instead of speaking Tseng leaned forward and embraced Rufus’ wet body. The spray of the shower rained down on Tseng soaking his shirt until it was see through, but he ignored it in favour of holding Rufus close. 

Finally, Rufus pulled away and stood to shut off the shower. Tseng climbed to his feet passing a towel to Rufus while taking a second for himself. 

“Get out of your wet clothes,” Rufus said towel drying his hair, “you can borrow some of mine and we’ll set yours in front of the heater.”

Tseng nodded and began to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, Rufus obviously wanted Tseng to stay the night or else such an offer would not have been made. Once he was naked, Tseng wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up his sodden clothes as well as Rufus’ soiled ones. 

“We should settle in for the evening,” Tseng suggested, “Perhaps you could call the staff for some food?” Rufus needed to eat and Tseng knew the blond was unlikely to do so without prompting. 

Rufus acquiesced and put a call in to the kitchens while Tseng lay the wet clothes in front of the heater. He then shrugged on his favoured bathrobe and offered a secondary one he kept to Tseng. They moved to lie together on the bed in comfortable silence, Rufus idly played with the dark strands of Tseng’s hair combing his fingers through the knots that had formed. The silence was eventually broken by a knock at the door. 

“Mr Shinra? Dinner, sir.”

“Leave it at the door, thank you,” Rufus called back and Tseng listened for the sound of the staff member leaving before standing to retrieve it. 

As always, the kitchen staff had provided far too much food, while Rufus was a healthy young man with an appetite to match, the staff always managed to make more food than anyone could reasonably eat. It suited the current situation just fine. Rufus and Tseng shared the food and as his stomach filled, Rufus became more like himself again. 

“The Don’s champion, Renault, I am curious about him. Do you think the Turks could dig up information?” Rufus asked as he washed down a mouthful of tender steak with red wine from the glass he was sharing with Tseng.

“Of course, may I ask why?” Rufus had told Tseng about how Renault had come forward, stopping the bandits and escorting Rufus back to Sector Five. While it was entirely possible that Renault had only worked out who Rufus was when he had seen the helicopters descending upon the slums, he was more inclined to believe that the Don’s champion had known all along who Rufus was, otherwise what was the motive for helping him?

Rufus handed the glass to Tseng and topped it back up. “Insatiable curiosity,” Rufus said, “I want to know who he is, why he works for Don Corneo and anything else that the Turks can find. Maybe then I will be able to understand why he stepped in and escorted me back to the train station.”

“If I were to tender a theory,” Tseng said, “I would be inclined to believe that he is high enough in the Don’s circle to realise how important Shinra is in maintaining Corneo’s power. He would understand that if the Don is usurped his place of privilege would also be at risk. It was in his best interests to ensure that Rufus Shinra was not harmed or taken hostage in the slums.” Tseng finished his theory with a sip of wine. 

Rufus contemplated Tseng’s words for a long moment while he took another bite from the steak grabbing up some of the mashed potato and roasted vegetables along with it. “I’m inclined to agree with your theory.” He conceded. “Nevertheless, I remain curious.”

They finished their dinner and set the tray outside the door to be taken back by the staff. Tseng had not been seeking sexual contact when he suggested they turn on the television and lay together. But after a while Rufus had started exploring Tseng’s body and offering affection which Tseng accepted. 

Rufus’ kisses were firm, he wanted to be in control of this encounter and Tseng welcomed Rufus’ tongue into his mouth. Tseng’s hand glided up the back of Rufus’ neck and his fingers ran through the fine strands of blond hair. Meanwhile Rufus had cupped the side of Tseng’s face while the other hand gently pulled the elastic from Tseng’s hair setting the black curtain free. Rufus broke the kiss and pulled back, allowing his eyes to rove down Tseng’s body until his view was blocked by the bathrobe. Tseng reached down to pull the belt free, but Rufus stayed Tseng’s hand. 

“Allow me,” Rufus’ voice was a husky whisper as he reached down and deftly pulled free the loose knot allowing Tseng’s bathrobe to fall open. Rufus splayed his hand over Tseng’s chest and pressed down indicating for his lover to lie back on the bed. Tseng complied brushing back his hair as he did so allowing the black strands to flow around his head on the pillow. 

Rufus inhaled sharply as his eyes roved the naked body before him. “Beautiful…” his lips twitched upwards as he reached into his bedside drawer and withdrew a tube of lubricant. Rufus coated his fingers in the gel and warmed it in his hand while his free hand stroked Tseng’s inner thigh. “Spread your legs for me.”

Tseng obeyed bending his knees and opening his legs for Rufus who fitted perfectly between them. He stared at his blond lover as Rufus lowered his own eyes to Tseng’s entrance. The lube was body temperature by the time Rufus began to carefully apply it around Tseng’s sphincter. The first finger gently pushed against Tseng’s muscles and the Wutainese man relaxed allowing the intrusion. Rufus leaned up and kissed along Tseng’s jaw as his finger explored and moved inside of Tseng’s body. A second finger soon pressed in with the first giving Rufus better access, Tseng controlled his breathing as Rufus’ fingers moved inside of him until they found Tseng’s prostate. Rufus rubbed the bundle of nerves and was rewarded with a deep, needy moan.

“I do like those noises you make,” Rufus whispered, “You are so quiet and those noises are only for me.”

Tseng nodded letting out a more strangled noise, Rufus was not wrong, the noises that Tseng made were only for Rufus. For Tseng there had been no other lovers and he did not plan for that to change. 

Rufus’ third finger pressed inside of Tseng and he began to work them in and out of Tseng’s body in a steady rhythm, loosening his lover so that their carnal union would not be painful. Soon Tseng was letting out little moans and gasps that told Rufus that he was ready. They were intune with one another and while Tseng feared this sometimes lended itself to predictable and somewhat boring sex as if they were following a script they had both learned. But on this night there was more than just physical need, Rufus was looking for love, the affection he was denied by everyone else in his life. 

Tseng met Rufus’ eyes and gave a little nod to confirm to his lover that he was ready. Rufus planted a quick kiss to Tseng’s lips before covering his member in lubricant and starting to press into Tseng’s prepared body. Tseng moaned loudly feeling Rufus’ hot flesh penetrating him, he wrapped his legs around Rufus’ waist and gyrated his hips.

Rufus’ thrusts were firm and even, he bowed his head over Tseng’s face and they kissed passionately. Tseng rested one hand on Rufus’ shoulder and the other had wrapped around Rufus’ body letting him dig the tips of his fingers into Rufus’ back as they moved in time with one another. Gasping moans and grunts passed both their lips as they kissed. After some time Rufus reached between them and began to stroke Tseng’s hardened member. 

“Come with me?” Rufus asked in a breathless whisper. 

“O-of course,” Tseng answered back, readying himself to spill alongside Rufus. 

Together they spilled, riding out their orgasms together with moans and gasps of pleasure. 

Rufus slowly eased himself out of Tseng’s body, planting a kiss on his lover’s lips before rolling to lie beside him. Tseng reached out and rested his hand on Rufus’ chest needing the physical contact with his lover to continue.

In the early hours Tseng dressed and slipped away. He would have liked to stay, to wake up beside his lover and share a lazy morning, but that was not the way of things. The relationship between Rufus and Tseng had to remain a secret and they could not afford to be careless. Tseng’s very life would be forfeited should the President ever discover them.

From Sector Six Tseng arranged a taxi to his own place in Sector Eight. Tseng valued his appearance, as a Turk there was a certain image he wanted to present to his colleagues and the other members of the Shinra corporation. No one would take Tseng seriously if he came to work with a creased suit and messy hair. After a shower and a change of clothes Tseng felt there was one last thing he needed to do before going to work. 

A mere five minute walk from Tseng’s apartment was a small, well kept house with high brick walls. A six foot tall iron gate stood locked, but the gaps between the bars allowed a bystander to look in and see the red brick house and its Wutainese water garden. Such a sight could not be seen anywhere else in Midgar. The house had been given to Tseng’s family when their usefulness had waned and it no longer seemed worth it for the President to keep them in Sector Six. Tseng stood across the road, concealed in a small ally among rows of bins. Dark eyes looked through the bars. It was not long before a light inside turned on, the rising sun started to cast long rays over Midgar and some of them dispersed over the garden reflecting off the shimmering water. The front door opened and Tseng’s mother stepped out. Aika was a tiny woman even by Wutanese standards, her hair had started to grey and her face weather but she still wore a small smile on her lips as she began to lovingly tend to her garden. Years spent in Midgar had changed her, but not completely. Aika wore traditional Wutanese clothes every day, she refused to assimilate to Midgar fashion, she had always told Tseng that they were from Wutai and they should be proud of their heritage. He had to admire his mother for holding on so tightly to their home. Seeing her smile was all Tseng needed and he left before she could see him.

By the time Tseng arrived at the Turk headquarters he had forgotten all about the promised punishment for his negligence in the slums two nights prior. Mercifully, Veld deemed it appropriate to try and bore Tseng to death and sent him to the archive rooms to sort the old paper files into some semblance of order so that one day, another Turk suffering an equally dull punishment could begin to scan the records to the secure system.


	6. Investigation

Six weeks had passed since Tseng and Rufus’ excursion together down to the slums. Tseng had thought that time would see the end to Rufus’ strange fascination with the place, instead it had only grown. Rufus had started talking about his father’s incompetence for allowing such a decrepit place to form in the city that Shinra built. 

“It is a poor reflection on us and the city,” Rufus had said as he slowly scrolled through apartment listings. Another new obsession had become Rufus wanting to move out of his father’s home, this one Tseng understood. “I want to find a solution to the slums, a way to upgrade it and make it more marketable…” 

Tseng looked up from the book he had been reading, “Have you spoken to the new assistant director of Urban Development? Mr Tuesti seems to have similar ideas and ambitions to yourself.” 

Rufus was hovering his cursor over a penthouse in Sector Eight. “I have heard his proposals in development meetings. I’m afraid that he might be a bit soft. If I want an ally in the boardroom I want one with some fire, he is too submissive.” Rufus clicked on the listing and began to scroll through the pictures. 

“Perhaps he is waiting for someone else to show that they are strong first,” Tseng suggested, “After all, he is the new man in the boardroom.” That was Veld’s observation of the matter that he had shared with the Turks.

“You’re probably right, Tseng,” Rufus said as he turned his laptop towards Tseng.

Tseng began to scroll through the pictures of the penthouse apartment. It boasted a scenic view of Midgar with electronic blockout curtains that could plunge the living area into pure darkness. The main room had a lower section that the current occupants were using as a television room. There were three bedrooms all opening onto their own balconies with privacy dividers in between each. It was certainly a lovely penthouse and would be a nice change to sneaking around the manor.

“It looks suitable,” Tseng said, turning the laptop towards Rufus, “I think it will be a nice change for you and for us.” He leaned in and pressed his lips roughly to Rufus’ stealing a passionate and deep kiss. Rufus set aside the laptop and allowed Tseng to climb on top of him deepening the kiss. 

The idea of Rufus having his own place where they could be free together was exciting for Tseng. No more hiding and having to leave in the early hours, no more having to keep quiet for fear of detection. With the excitement of the upcoming change on both their minds the two young men made love.

“Tseng?” Rufus’ voice was still husky from love making, his crystalline blue eyes raked over Tseng’s naked form as the other man rose from the bed.

Tseng looked over his shoulder, his cheeks were still flushed and the afterglow of sex visible on him. “Yes, Rufus?”

“Did you ever get around to doing research on Renault for me?”

“No,” Tseng walked towards the bathroom as he spoke. “I apologise, I was distracted by other matters. Do you still wish for me to look into him?” 

Rufus contemplated this for a long moment, it had been six weeks since his adventure down in the slums, but his curiosity about the under city had only increased in that time. “Yes, I would be interested to learn about him. He may be valuable to me.”

Tseng stepped out of the bathroom with a washcloth in hand. “In what way, sir?”

Sir, so this was business now, Tseng was not taking the request as a personal favour but an order. Very well, if that was how Tseng wanted to play it. “I have ambitions regarding the slums. I need an inside man. Perhaps Renault would be sufficient.”

“I can tell you now, that is risky. Renault is the champion for Don Corneo, that is where his loyalty lies and an attempt to get in between that could be detrimental and easily circle back to your father.” Tseng’s voice had that strict professional tone in it now, this was not how Rufus thought this conversation was going to go. 

“Well, if our research indicates it is too risky to use him as an inside man I will abide. But to make that decision I will first need appropriate research to be conducted.” Rufus met Tseng’s eyes and ensured that his message was clear, Tseng was to find out more information about Renault. “I am sure that you will have a sufficient report for me by this time next week.”

“Yes, sir.” Tseng began to gather his clothing from the chair on which he had draped it earlier in the evening. 

Rufus sighed and softened his voice. “You don’t need to leave, Tseng. I was actually thinking you should stay the night with me.”

Tseng considered the offer, even Tseng was not beyond irrational feelings of petulance and for a moment he wondered what reaction he would gain from Rufus if he chose to decline. But such thoughts were quickly driven from Tseng’s mind, he would never seek to hurt his lover in such a petty way over a business transaction. Rufus was the future of Shinra and Tseng would have to get used to not agreeing with all of his decisions. Tseng centred himself and nodded. “Of course I will stay with you, Rufus.” He set aside his clothes once again and returned to the bed. 

The next morning Tseng got to work on appeasing Rufus’ desires, the order had been given in the privacy of Rufus’ bedroom, it was not truly an official assignment and that was the first thing that Tseng needed to correct. Turks had to account for their time and what they were doing, Tseng could not vanish for hours a day into the slums without good reason. Within an hour of walking through the door Tseng had given himself a good reason to go and investigate Reno. 

Veld looked over the mission request from Tseng, his dark eyes moving back and forward across the screen while the young Turk sat on the other side of the desk waiting for a verdict on the proposal.

“Rufus has taken quite the interest in the slums it would seem,” Veld said conversationally, “wanting to gain further information on the rampant drug problem and how it can be resolved for the betterment of all of Midgar. That is very generous of him.” Veld’s dark eyes moved over to Tseng. “I don’t know what you and Rufus are planning, frankly I don’t want to know. So tell me this, Tseng, is this fake mission and the risk it carries worth it?”

No, of course it wasn’t, Rufus wanted to satisfy his fetishized curiosity about some slum rat he had met. “Of course,” Tseng said smoothly, “I would not be going ahead with this if I did not think that Rufus was onto something brilliant.”

Veld sighed, “Let’s be glad that the President does not take an interest in our day to day assignments.” He signed the bottom, “I will, of course, deny all knowledge about ulterior motives should this go poorly for you. As far as I am concerned you were investigating the drug rings of Midgar for Rufus’ knowledge.”

“Yes Sir,” Tseng said, he would not want his mentor to go down for this should it turn bad. 

It would have been easy for Tseng to go straight to Don Corneo and put pressure on the man to give him all the information on Renault. But that was crass and would draw far much attention to Tseng and to Renault. Instead, Tseng decided to start somewhat lower, he went with a far more subtle approach and visited Madam M. Perhaps it was her Wutanese heritage that drew Tseng back there, or perhaps he just sensed that she would be a good source of information. 

“What can I do for you?” Madam M asked, eyeing Tseng’s uniform with suspicion as she fluttered her fan in front of her face. 

“I’m after some information, I believe you will be able to help me. Of course I will compensate you for your time and effort.” It was a fair exchange and Tseng was certain that while Madam M might provide false information she would be cautious about crossing the Turks. 

Madam M concealed her mouth behind her folded fan as she walked around her counter and passed Tseng to lock the front door of her parlour. “I cannot be bought, Turk. However, perhaps if you paid for a service we might talk, and who knows what could be said during a private session?”

Tseng could understand this, bribery was not something practiced in Wutai, not overtly. From what Tseng had figured from Rufus, the massage Madam M gave was in line with the traditional massages from Wutai. Tseng, playing along flexed his hand. “My hand is rather tense from all the paperwork I needed to complete.” He handed over the money for a luxury service and followed Madam M behind the curtain. Tseng lay down and took off his gloves stowing them in his pocket. 

“A Wutanese Turk,” Madam M said as she lifted Tseng’s left hand and began to massage the tips of his fingers, “Curious.”

“We all have our hobbies,” Tseng said, closing his eyes and trying to relax his body a little “My current interest actually lies in the Don’s Colosseum, I attended a night there not too long ago.”

Madam M’s massage began to descend from the tips towards the joints. “There is certainly a market for violence here. What did you think of the colosseum? I understand that there is nothing like that on the plate.”

“You are correct, I have never seen anything like it before. It was a thrilling night, the skill of some of the fighters greatly surprised me.”

At this Madam M laughed, “Which ones? Most of them are bandits who only win their fights because they enter in large numbers.”

“What about Renault?” There was no point playing dumb and insulting both of them.

“The Don’s champion,” Madam M circled the pad of her thumb over Tseng’s knuckles, “I suppose it was only a matter of time before the Turks came here looking into him.”

Tseng blinked a couple of times trying to get past the very pleasant feeling of the hand massage and continue to focus on his mission. “You judge him a worthy fighter for the SOLDIER program?” Interesting. 

“Oh, here I thought that the Turks would be interested for, well, I suppose the Turks have high standards. But he would not be the first street rat the Turks took.” Madam M increased the firmness of the massage as she began to work on Tseng’s palm. 

Madam M was right of course, the Turks recruited from the slums frequently. Veld had explained to Tseng that criminals were resourceful and knew how other criminals worked. “Do you know where I could find Renault when he is not with the Don?”

“I stay out of the Don’s business and have little interest in following around his lackeys,” Madam M said, “But Renault is hard to miss with that hair of his.” She was quiet for a long moment as she focused on the massage. Patience was a virtue and Tseng held his tongue allowing Madam M to do her work. The silence paid off, as Madam M moved to Tseng’s right hand she started talking again. “Renault is rarely seen in Wall Market unless he is doing work for the Don, I don’t know where he goes when he leaves. But, I recently found out he rents an apartment above the Cactaur bar.”

When Madam M was finished, Tseng felt relaxed and at ease, the price of the massage was well worth it and he even left a tip having no doubt that the generosity would be to his advantage some time in the future. 

It took Tseng a couple of days of surveillance before he caught sight of the redhead. The young man was certainly at home in the slums and even once Tseng caught sight of him it was hard to keep up. The Colosseum quickly proved itself to be a good place not only to find Renault but to dig for information. 

Tseng spent several weeks visiting the Colosseum, he was careful never to establish a pattern of when he would attend as he did not want to become too noticed. On many occasions, Tseng would try to follow Renault from the Colosseum after fights. He learned that on event nights Renault would usually retreat straight back to his apartment or leave with the Don's muscle and go to the manor on the hill. Tseng noted that when Renault went to the mansion he walked up the stairs slowly, his body was tense and he seemed on edge. Nights Renault went to the mansion were nights he had lost fights. On other nights Renault would slip away and head for Ever Green Park. Tseng always lost Renault before he could find out where the redhead was going.

What Tseng did learn from visiting the colosseum and talking to the other patrons was that Renault had been working for Don Corneo for about three years. Apparently, he was from Sector Seven slums which would explain why Reno often went in that direction. One rumour suggested that Renault was owned by the Don as property. When watching Renault fight, Tseng took real notice of the other's fighting abilities and found himself impressed. Madam M was right that Renault would be eye catching to a group such as the Turks. Of course it would take more than combat skills to make a Turk. 

Having learnt nothing more about Renault during the surveillance, Tseng went to Rufus after a month.

"This is what I have found out," Tseng said, handing a black Manila folder to Rufus one evening. While Rufus sat back on the bed and opened the file, Tseng went to take a shower. 

Fifteen minutes later, Tseng stepped out of the shower relaxed and refreshed. He pulled on a bathrobe and walked around the bed to climb in on the other side. Rufus was frowning as his eyes scanned the information sheet and pictures. 

"This is it?" Rufus closed the folder. 

"He is rather elusive." And Tseng had treated the mission as a side project for the most part. After all, there were more important things for Turks to be doing other than gaining intelligence on a lackey of Don Corneo. 

Rufus held the file out to Tseng. "Try again," he said in his business voice, "I am sure if you put your mind and skills to this task you could find me out far more information."

Tseng accepted the folder back with an inaudible sigh. "You’re really keen on this. You say it is looking for a potential guide in the slums. But I want to know the real reason."

"He intrigues me, Tseng. You didn't meet him, but there is something about him… I can't put my finger on it." Rufus frowned. "I find myself contemplating him a lot, he has been visiting me in my dreams. I want to have answers so that he will either leave my mind or…"

"Or?" Tseng prompted.

Rufus gave a slight shrug. "I'm not sure. I will know when it happens."

Tseng frowned wondering about the dreams Rufus was having. In Wutanese culture dreams were seen as important, spiritual phenomena that if reoccurring needed to be analysed. Of course, Rufus would not buy into any of that. Rufus had made his stance on such things clear a long time ago. Tseng supposed that uncovering information was Rufus’ answer to deep analysis of these dreams and Tseng would abide.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!


End file.
